


Error Party

by Topicabo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coming Untouched, Communication Failure, Language, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Not Beta Read, Not Britpicked, Sexual Content, Teasing, Undressing, Watching, they figure it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9427091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topicabo/pseuds/Topicabo
Summary: In which a few misconceptions about a previous night need to be corrected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another in the long line of "Mycroft and Greg could have saved themselves these shenanigans if they communicated a bit better".

A discordant violin screech greeted Greg as he opened the street door of 221B. Raising an eyebrow, he strolled up the stairs and found the upper floor entrance already standing ajar.

 

“And here’s our dear Detective Inspector come to join us, though not for any useful purpose,” Sherlock said from his position in front of the open window. His bow took another belabored drag against the violin’s strings. “My good fortune abounds.”

 

Ignoring Sherlock, Greg stepped forward to greet John as he got up from his seat by the desk. “Alright, mate?”

 

“Yeah,” John said, giving Greg’s hand a firm shake. “Don’t mind him, he’s not much for company right now.”

 

Greg rolled his eyes. “Maybe he should bring back my ID after he’s done with it, then. Or stop nicking them to begin with.”

 

John’s expression shifted into annoyance before he glared in Sherlock’s direction. “Thought I told you to stop doing that.”

 

“Oh, what? It takes him ages to miss them.”

 

“Sherlock,” said John, strained patience in his tone, “where?”

 

Sherlock dropped his head back and groaned in an over dramatic fashion. He listlessly waved his bow at the mass of documents strew across the coffee table. John pursed his lips as though ready to pitch something at Sherlock’s head, but instead sighed and stepped over to the haphazard pile of papers. After a short search, he plucked out the ID.

 

“Sorry Greg,” John said, handing the card over.

 

“Thanks. Getting a bit embarrassing to explain why I keep needing new ones made.”

 

“Yes, good, fascinating,” Sherlock said impatiently, flopping into his chair. “Close the door on your way out.” He paused and zeroed a withering glare at a spot behind Greg. “Perhaps you could follow Lestrade’s example as well, since you have even less reason to be here than he does.”

 

Confused, Greg turned his head toward the kitchen, a blind spot to anyone entering the upstairs area. His gaze immediately latched onto the pair of steel blue eyes. Then he put those together with a long nose, fixed lips, the pale neck; all encased inside an impeccable charcoal shaded three-piece suit.

 

He hadn’t been wearing that suit the last time Greg had seen him. Before, it had been a slightly more form fitting one of deep blue. Greg remembered thinking about how appealing the fabric had looked hugging against his hips.

 

_“Is it really so interesting?”_

_“Huh?”_

_“My arse.”_

_“Wha- Sorry?”_

_“I’ve merely noticed that you’ve been staring at it for the past few minutes. Is there some mishap with my trousers that needs attention?”_

_“No, no. They look fine.”_

_“What is it, then? I begin to wonder if you’re looking just to enjoy the view.”_

_“……“_

_“Oh. I see.”_

_“Uh, look, it’s late. Should probably call it for the night.”_

_“Lestrade-“_

_“Sorry if I was being rude. I didn’t mean anything by it-“_

_“Greg, please, wait. I’m not offended. Quite the opposite, actually.”_

_“…You serious?”_

_“Of course. Unless, I’ve misunderstood the situation?”_

_“No! No, you haven’t.”_

_“Then thank you. I’m gratified to hear it.”_

_“Have to say, I didn’t think you’d be so accepting of this.”_

_“Why shouldn’t I be? To be perfectly frank, I’m not above stealing glances at you either.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Is that so hard to believe?”_

_“I guess not. Just never expected it.”_

_“Hm. Well, if you’re not in too much of a hurry, would you care to discuss the matter further?”_

 

 

Heat bloomed across the back of Greg’s neck. The memory flashed unbidden to the forefront of his mind, replaying in vivid detail. His head lolled back against his office door as he’d ground against the firm thigh pressed tight between his shaking legs. He’d reveled in the exquisite friction, and in the sound of those dark, wickedly persuasive words of encouragement.

_“Wonderful. I had no idea you’d be this responsive.”_

_“Heh, cheeky –ngh- bastard. Oh, fuck, that’s good…”_

 

_“God, just look at you. The sight you make. I didn’t even need to get your pants off, did I?”_

_“I-”_

_“Did I, Inspector?”_

 

_“N-no, you didn’t.”_

 

_“And it’s not going to take much more, is it? You’re nearly there already; I can feel it. That’s how much you’ve wanted this.”_

_“Yes. Yes, please…”_

_“Go on, then.”_

_“I’m- My-!”_

_“That’s it, show me. Say my name.”_

 

 

 

“Mycroft.”

 

Mycroft’s shoulders tensed, a split second of apprehension visible before blankness solidified over his face. He gave a curt nod. “Detective Inspector.” His eyes immediately flicked back to Sherlock. “And you needn’t worry about tolerating my presence any longer, brother mine. It’s already past time that I returned to the office. Good day, gentlemen.” Greg opened his mouth to speak, or maybe protest, he really wasn’t sure, but Mycroft had breezed out the door and started down the stairs.

 

The three men exchanged glances, an awkward silence falling over the room. “That was different,” John said, his brow crinkling in bewilderment. “Even for your brother.”

 

Sherlock made a thoughtful hmming sound. “Much as I prefer to simply rejoice in his departure, I’ll admit it’s odd to be rid of him so easily.”

 

“Um, I should probably be heading out too,” said Greg, his feet moving towards the doorway. He sensed that familiar, probing sensation as Sherlock’s gaze swung in his direction, but right then he couldn’t be arsed to pay it mind. He gave a quick nod to John and lifted his hand, gesturing with the ID held between his fingers. “Thanks for this. Cheers, you two.”

 

“Uh, sure, Greg,” John said, even though Greg was already halfway out of the flat. “Be seeing you.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll let you know if anything interesting comes up,” Greg called back over his shoulder, picking up speed as he clomped down the stairs. He bypassed the two steps just outside of the building with a small leap, glancing all around the street. For a discouraging moment Greg thought he’d been too slow in following. Then he turned to the left, and his eyes landed upon Mycroft huddling under Speedy’s red awning. He wore a scowl as he typed on his phone, presumably summoning that posh black car of his over text.

 

“Good at those quick exits, aren’t you?”

 

Mycroft’s head jerked upwards, his face going startlingly expressive for one exposed instant. “Oh. Inspector.“ He straightened, the little upheaval of his composure quickly smoothing out. “Did you need something?”

 

Under different circumstances, Greg would have found it amusing how easy it was to see past that blatant dodge.

 

“Really, Mycroft? That’s how we’re doing this?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Mycroft said blandly with the face to match.

 

Rolling his eyes, Greg steeled himself for the conversational equivalent of dragging along a particularly stubborn mule. “Okay. So you just leg it at the sight of me, and I’m supposed to pretend like I don’t notice.”

 

That managed to ruffle Mycroft’s stoicism, if his little twitch of a frown was anything to go off of. “I wasn’t `legging it`. There are issues that I must attend to.”

 

“’Yeah, I bet. That what happened the last time I saw you?”

 

The frown fully emerged then, along with a prickly sort of tension. “That’s none of your concern. I’m not obligated to justify my actions to you.”

 

Funny how that passive aggressive dismissal had so much of a slap to it. It almost would have stung less if Mycroft had outright told him to piss off. “’Course not. Daft of me to think you could be bothered to explain it.”

 

“That was your mistake, not mine,” Mycroft said, a terse bite to his tone. “I have better things to do with my time.”

 

“Could you just-“

 

“Is this really so difficult for you to comprehend? I’ll speak plainly then; I have no wish to discuss the matter further. So I’ll thank you to drop it.”

 

There was finality to the space of silence following Mycroft’s words, like he’d gone ahead and capped the conversation for them both. Greg stared at him, feeling the familiar, impotent frustration that came with having his side of the argument yanked out of his grasp and snapped in half.

 

And all because Mycroft Holmes willed it so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two parter is definitely going to be three or four now, because I generally like to keep the chapters from getting too long if they don't need to be. I just like smaller chunks, honestly. It also may go E rated, depending on how I feel about it. XD


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clearing the air...

“Yeah. Okay,” Greg said, bitterness an actual physical sensation clenching in his throat. Mycroft looked past him in response, giving his dignity one last little scrape under that metaphorical heel.

 

Well. It didn’t get more definitive than that. Greg turned to leave, with no clear plan beyond just needing to get some distance from Mycroft. But his feet didn’t move.

 

“Actually, you know what? It’s not okay.” Greg did an about-face, taking a step that put him just past the invisible barrier of Mycroft’s personal space. Mycroft rocked back momentarily as though catching himself from flinching away. His eyes narrowed, neck muscles visibly taut as Greg leaned in.

 

“You’re not interested in me anymore? Fine. I can understand changing your mind. But not having the decency to say it to my face is rubbish.”

 

Mycroft blinked, the hard line of his lips loosening a touch. “I’m sorry?”

 

“Come off it, Mycroft. I might not be as quick as you and Sherlock, but I’m not an idiot. I get it; I botched our first go together. But I didn’t deserve you taking off on me like that, and I don’t deserve it now either.”

 

A subtle change came over Mycroft’s face, the guarded expression becoming less defined. “I don’t understand,” he said hesitantly, “you thought I left that night because of you?”

 

The question gave pause to Greg’s indignation, as did seeing the uncommon occurrence of Mycroft Holmes looking confused. “There a different reason then? I mean, one second everything was going great, the next you were out the door like you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

 

“What? No, that’s not why I-“ Mycroft stopped, his face going vacant the way it did when several threads of logic were interlacing themselves together in his head. Mycroft's mouth opened slightly, only to close again. It took another attempt for his voice to emerge. “You think I found you disappointing.”

 

Hearing his inadequacy put into words recrystallized that lingering ache of rejection, though thankfully it wasn’t as severe as the initial stab had been. “Yeah,” Greg said, the reply sitting unpleasantly on his tongue.

 

“Oh. Oh, buggering hell.” All of Mycroft’s abrasiveness had dissolved into a kind of numb shock. “I got it wrong. But of course you thought that, what other conclusion could you come to? I just assumed that you saw, I never even stopped to consider-“

 

Mycroft caught himself just as he got dangerously close to babbling. “Good Lord,” he murmured, pressing a hand to his mouth. “I’m an utter bastard.”

 

There were several items of interest in what Mycroft had just said that needed unpacking, but Greg could scarcely tell where to start. But he was fairly certain that perhaps Mycroft wasn’t the only one who had missed a few crucial details.

 

“Okay, not exactly going to disagree, but you mind clarifying?”

 

Mycroft gave a strained laugh, his arm dropping back to his side. “I probably had that coming. No, actually, I’m sure I did. All my pontificating at Sherlock to act like an adult and I can’t even follow my own example.” He looked at Greg, something very much like shame etched in his face. “Greg, I… I can’t even begin to apologize for the way I’ve acted. There’s no excuse for how I’ve treated you.”

 

“That’s a first. I ought to get that in writing,” Greg remarked tartly.

 

Mycroft grimaced, those subtle hints of guilt sharpening into stark clarity. He turned his eyes down to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Just that simple statement, without any of his usual double meanings or enigmatic undertones.

 

It was a more genuine response than Greg usually got from Mycroft.

 

“Christ, you’re going to drive me round the bend, aren’t you?” Greg muttered. A stubborn part of him was reluctant to lower his defenses. But already he found his resentment beginning to slip away. “So I didn’t cock it up after all?”

 

Mycroft lifted his gaze back to Greg’s face, consternation riding in the crease of his brow. “No, of course not. If anyone is to be blamed for spoiling things, it should be me.”

 

“Alright, alright, enough of that,” said Greg, raising a placating hand. “No point in going in circles about it.”

 

Greg’s mood shift obviously perplexed Mycroft. “Then, you’re not upset with me?” he asked with an air of cautious optimism.

 

Greg heaved a resigned sigh. “Oh, trust me, I’m definitely a bit narked. But I accept your apology.” He gave Mycroft a half-smirk, adding, “Damn good thing I fancy you so much.”

 

Mycroft’s emerging expression was one of bewilderment mixed with quiet gratitude. He glanced away. ”At the risk of being forward, I’m of the same mind myself.”

 

Greg let out a slow breath, a swell of relief sweeping through and centering down in his chest. It was a bit surprising how intense the sensation was. He reached out and let his fingers form a loose circle around Mycroft’s wrist. Mycroft started, his eyes swinging back to meet Greg’s again, silently questioning the action.

 

“You’ve no idea how good it feels to hear you say that,” Greg said, warmth finding its way into his smile. Weak, that’s what he was. Weak for one impossible, confounding, awkward man with a penchant for overcomplicating what ought to be simple. And really, what excuse did he have when that’s exactly why he wanted Mycroft so?

 

A tentative smile of his own tugged at the corners of Mycroft’s mouth. He fidgeted indecisively, and then gravitated somewhat closer, probably mindful that they were out in the open. “I’m sorry that I led you to believe otherwise.”

 

“We’re good.” Greg slid his grip down and squeezed Mycroft’s hand once before releasing him. “Still kind of curious what this was all about, by the way,” Greg said airily. “That is, if my asking won’t cheese you off again?”

 

“Ah.” Mycroft’s discomfort resurfaced, albeit a different sort than before. “You’re right. I suppose I do owe you an explanation.” He briefly pinched his lower lip in between his teeth. “Understand, I honestly only meant for us to talk that night. But things escalated rather quickly, didn’t they? It would seem that I have poor self-control when you’re involved.”

 

Grinning at the memory, Greg cheekily quirked an eyebrow. “And it was bloody fantastic. Would have shown you the same if you’d stuck around.”

 

Mycroft’s breathing stuttered. The next second he hastily cleared his throat, a bit pinker in the face than usual.

 

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. There was no need.”

 

“Huh?” Greg cocked his head slightly, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

 

Mycroft’s posture seemed to pull in on itself a bit. “Greg, seeing you like that; it was extraordinary. Beyond anything I had ever imagined. So much so that when you finally- That is, I also…“

 

It took Greg a moment. “Wait.” Then his jaw dropped. “Wait, you’re saying you came just from me-“

 

“From watching you, yes.”

 

“In your trous-“

 

“Yes, not in so much detail, if you don’t mind,” Mycroft interjected, and this time there was no mistaking the flare of red across his cheeks. “As you can imagine, I wasn’t terribly interested in staying and embarrassing myself further after that poor performance. Of course, none of that justifies any of my subsequent behavior towards you. But at the time, I was mortified that I’d managed to muck up such an important first impression-”

 

“Come to mine.”

 

Mycroft faltered mid-word. “What?”

 

“Come see me,” said Greg, stepping in towards Mycroft, turning the distance between them from polite to conspicuous. Not that he gave a toss about public propriety right then. “Tonight.”

 

“I-“ Mycroft floundered in that reserved, fussy way of his, but he didn’t back away. “Tonight is somewhat inconvenient.”

 

“Tomorrow then. Or the day after.” Greg smiled reassuringly. “Please? Got a few things to explain to you, but I think it’d be better to do in private.”

 

The widening of Mycroft’s eyes so understated, and yet even that tiny shift in his features betrayed the apprehension skimming underneath the surface. Greg found it rather endearing to see the unflappable Mycroft Holmes looking so… flapped.

 

Mycroft finally nodded, his Adam’s apple making a little dip as he swallowed. “I can’t guarantee anything, but I will try to set aside an evening as soon as possible.”

 

“Good.” Greg leaned forward, just on the cusp of pressing up against Mycroft’s suit. “Don’t make me wait too long though, yeah?” he said, his voice soft against Mycroft’s ear. Greg caught the brush of Mycroft’s shiver through that scant bit of space between them.

 

“Yes…” Mycroft breathed, sounding dazed. It was unclear what he was actually saying yes to, and Greg felt something indefinable wind low through his stomach.

 

“Looking forward to it,” Greg said. Then, in a fluid motion, he sidestepped past Mycroft and started walking away without a single glance back. He didn’t need to look; he could sense Mycroft’s eyes following his departure like a tangible presence clinging to his back.

 

And wasn’t that a promising sign? Between that and all the interesting information he had to digest, Greg was nothing but eager for their next meeting.

 

And, with enough planning, he was confident that Mycroft would be pleasantly surprised as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd meant this as a little side thing, but it got a bit more involving than I realized. Also was trying to get that balance between keeping Mycroft's character and yet making it plausible that he might react this way. I think it works? But I'm liking the flow, for the most part.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft finally takes Greg up on his invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's interesting to me how this story evolved from it's original conception to what it's actually turned into. I like it much more though!

`As soon as possible` turned out to be a week later. Greg had been dozing on his couch when the sharp ping of his text alert jerked him awake. He grunted and blearily snatched his phone off the coffee table. His first pass of reading the message didn’t register in his brain right away. Then he sat up, rapidly blinking away the haze from his eyes as he stared at the screen.

 

_Good evening, Greg._

_MH_

 

 

Greg reread the text a few more times, cobbling together his thoughts. He took a quick breath and typed in a reply.

**Hello Mycroft. You been alright?**

_Busier than I would have liked, all things considered. However, I find myself with the good fortune of having the rest of my evening free._

_MH_

 

Greg’s heart gave a little jump.

 

 

**You want to come to mine?**

_Yes. If it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition?_

_MH_

Greg sensed the diffident undertone even through text. _Unless you’ve changed your mind…_ He rolled his eyes, fondness diffusing through his chest.

 

**I really want to see you, Mycroft.**

Mycroft wasn’t as quick on the uptake with his next response. In fact, it was well over a minute before Greg’s phone chimed again.

_And I you._

_MH_

Greg smiled. There was something about being as forthright as possible with a man like Mycroft that worked wonders. Maybe he just appreciated not being talked to in half-truths and ambiguity for a change.

 

 

**Get over here, then. You had dinner?**

_I ate earlier. But I can bring something for a nightcap, if you’d like. Would 8:30 be acceptable?_

_MH_

 

 

**Yes to both. Can’t wait.**

 

_I look forward to seeing you as well._

 

_MH_

 

 

Greg set down his phone again and passed a hand over his jaw, the accumulation of stubble prickling over his palm. With a dissatisfied grunt, he pushed himself upright and headed for his bedroom. There was time enough for a quick shower and a shave before Mycroft arrived. After all, putting in a little extra effort in cases like this never hurt….

 

 

* * *

 

 

A few clipped knocks echoed through Greg’s flat a little over an hour later. The muted anticipation concentrating in his midsection spiked up at the sound. He fiddled with his collar once more on his way to answer the door, keeping his footsteps evenly paced.

 

Mycroft turned his head when the door opened. “Hello Gre-“ His words stumbled to a halt when Greg fully came into view.

 

A Cheshire-like grin crooked in the corner of Greg’s mouth at the reaction. He was now clean-shaven with just a touch of product carded through his hair. The denim of what he affectionately referred to as his `Arse Hugger` jeans clung close to his skin. He’d paired those with a black button up, the sleeves rolled past his elbows and the two top buttons undone to expose his collarbone.

 

Greg casually leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and crossed his arms, a picture of cheeky confidence. He had to admit that Mycroft’s rapt attention was a considerable ego boost.

 

“Hey,” he said, indulging in his own leisurely appraisal. Mycroft wrapped in a meticulously tailored suit was always a visual treat, and this ensemble was no exception. The twill was a muted brown with darker lines forming a checked pattern all along the fabric. His dress shirt was white, with a pocket square to match. The tie appeared black in the lower light until Greg noticed the sections of dark brown stripes down its length. The overall look struck him as delightfully casual in comparison to Mycroft’s professional attire. He noted the bottle clutched in Mycroft’s hand with a pleased hum.

 

“So, you want to come in, or…?”

 

Mycroft suddenly seemed to realize he’d been staring. “Yes, thank you,” he said quietly, moving inside. He waited a few steps away while Greg closed and relocked the door. “You look...” He paused. Greg turned and watched him in interest for the thought to be completed.

 

“You’re quite handsome tonight, Greg,” Mycroft finally said. He frowned the second after as though he’d misspoke and was internally chastising himself. Greg couldn’t help but smile at the simple directness of it.

 

“Thanks. You look brilliant yourself.”

 

A rapid procession of emotions flickered and coalesced over Mycroft’s face, the most prominent of them being a restrained sort of pleasure over the compliment. He set his parcel down on a side table by the wall before coming to stand in front of Greg. He reached out, the brush of his fingers against Greg’s cheek almost reverent.

 

“May I?” he asked, his smooth timbre edging into a lower resonance. The sound curled around Greg’s ears like a soft purr, kicking up a pulse of heat in his midsection.

 

“Yeah…” Greg’s voice was breathier than he recognized, but it hardly mattered right then. Not with Mycroft leaning in, mouth warm and wanting against his own. Greg adjusted the angle with an upward tilt of his head. He gently urged his weight forward, shuffling them both back until Mycroft was pressed against the wall. From there, it was much simpler to push in close and eliminate any empty space between their bodies.

 

Greg had been craving this. Their first time had been frenetic, and blindingly good; the breaking fever of relieving that long denied tangle of passion between them. But the chance to truly _explore_ thrilled him like nothing else. To learn the exact placement of his hands to draw out that delicate sigh from Mycroft, of just how firmly to suck on his bottom lip to make him gasp, and _God_ , that moan. Greg wasn’t sure what he’d done with his tongue to cause it, but he’d make an extensive study on the matter to hear it again, and as frequently as possible.

 

Greg felt the distinct pressure of Mycroft’s physical response along his upper thigh and groaned, his hips giving a little involuntary thrust in return. Mycroft made a sharp noise deep in his throat and jerked out of the kiss. “Ah, Greg, wait.”

 

“What?” Greg pulled back, concern having an immediate sobering effect on his eagerness. “Did I do something wrong?

 

“No, no, it’s not you.” Mycroft squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a long whoosh of air. When he reopened them, his expression was a blend of frustration and sheepishness. “My apologies, but could we take a moment? You’re a bit too effective, and I’d prefer not to have things end as they did last time.”

 

Greg let that sink in for a moment. Then, a smile born of playful impropriety spread across his face. “Really?” he asked. “Because I was kind of hoping that they would.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such a pain when the story fights me. For some reason the chunk right when Mycroft arrives was stubborn as hell coming out of my head. But it's fun when I break through that barrier and the story flows again.
> 
> Edit: It was this suit, BTW. XD 
> 
> http://24.media.tumblr.com/480e1c4b4647ca841f3d1ab0da366003/tumblr_n1tptzo1JJ1tpvrj4o4_250.gif


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Mycroft settle in a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahahawow I really didn't mean for this update to take so long. Sorry about that.

Greg was sure he’d never seen Mycroft look more utterly gobstruck than he did right then. An impish sense of satisfaction arose from having caused it. With an amused chuckle, he leaned in and nudged his face into the crook of Mycroft’s neck.

 

“I’ve tried picturing it over and over.” He fastened soft kisses onto the pale skin, counting time with the allegro of Mycroft’s pulse. “How you looked when it happened.” One of his hands wandered low and slid between Mycroft’s thighs. “Do you know how many times I’ve touched myself thinking about it?” Greg purposefully crooked his fingers, and Mycroft choked back a broken gasp as his hips jerked.

 

“I want to see it,” Greg said, mouthing an invisible path under Mycroft’s jawline. “Bet it’s even better than I imagined.”

 

Mycroft didn’t answer, but his bone-deep shudder was plenty descriptive all on its own. Greg pressed one last kiss below Mycroft’s chin and pulled off, keenly empathetic to the look of dazed disappointment he got in response. Mycroft was so deliciously disheveled; jacket hanging slightly askew on his frame, pupils blown wide. One errant curl of hair had dislodged from the rest of the collective, draped over his forehead in rebellious disregard to uniformity.

 

With a herculean level of restraint, Greg turned and began walking down the hall. He tossed a pointed glance over his shoulder at Mycroft, indicting further inside with a tilt of his head. Mycroft quickly pushed away from the wall and followed after Greg. The bottle of liquor was left forgotten on the side table.

 

The journey through the flat was anything but a straightforward process, distorting together into blur of hands, mouths, and tongues. They stumbled past the threshold of Greg’s room in awkward choreography. Greg clumsily elbowed the door shut before hauling them both over and onto the bed.

 

After landing with an `umpfh`, Greg rolled to his knees, fingers already working to free the buttons holding his shirt closed. Mycroft recognized his intentions and sat up, shedding his jacket. He’d started unbuttoning his waistcoat when Greg caught hold of his wrists.

 

“Hands to yourself,” he said with playful sternness. “You just let me handle that, yeah?”

 

Hesitance flitted behind Mycroft’s expression, but he nodded and dropped his arms to his sides. Greg eagerly scooted forward to pick up where Mycroft had stopped. First the waistcoat, braces, then the tie. He deliberately lingered as he pushed the shirt off Mycroft’s shoulders, savoring the feel of that warm flesh under his hands. His fingers trailed downwards and brushed through the generous dusting of chest hair. Mycroft’s breathing went slightly off pace.

 

“I’ve wanted to take you out of one these suits for ages,” Greg said, fascinated by each twitch and quiver that his touch induced.

 

Mycroft blinked, crimson airbrushing across his cheekbones. “You do realize that you haven’t finished?” The attempt at nonchalance was undermined by the catch in his voice.

 

Greg paused in his meandering exploration. “Good point,” he said, flattening his palm and giving a firm shove. Mycroft fell onto his haunches with a startled sputter, braced upright on his hands. His subsequent glare lost most of its edge when Greg lightly pushed against his chest again. With gentle pressure, he coaxed Mycroft back onto the mattress.

 

Greg skimmed his hand along Mycroft’s flank to settle over the front of his trousers. Mycroft went still as Greg unzipped him, his breaths little punctuations in the silence.

 

“Lift your hips.”

 

Mycroft wordlessly obeyed, canting his lower body up so the trousers could be slipped off his legs. Greg growled softly as he revealed the pair of fittingly posh briefs riding low on Mycroft’s waist. Even better was the sight of the pronounced erection silhouetted under the black cotton.

 

“Oh, very nice.” Greg bent down, treating himself to a greedy kiss. Mycroft’s lips parted without resistance, his fingers curling behind Greg’s neck and tugging him in closer. The filament of pleasure lazily spooling in Greg’s gut began twisting up tight and hot.

 

“Help me out,” Greg murmured between kisses, guiding one of Mycroft’s hands to his jeans. Unsurprisingly, Mycroft navigated the zipper with deft precision even while being thoroughly snogged. It only took a moment before the jeans were firmly dragged past Greg’s waist. An unabashed moan surfaced as the denim slid along his over sensitized skin.

 

Then Mycroft abruptly froze, letting out a shaky exhale.

 

“Bloody Christ.”

 

Greg grinned, knowing exactly what Mycroft was reacting to. “Problem?”

 

“You-“ Mycroft’s eyes flicked to Greg’s before darting back downward. “You’re not wearing-“

 

“Nope.” Greg deliberately rolled his hips once, the cool air pleasant against his exposed cock. “The jeans fit better without pants.” An odd thrill tingled up his spine at the realization that although they’d technically already had sex, this was the first time they would be seeing each other naked.

 

To that point, Greg eased back onto his knees, undoing the last of his shirt buttons. He took his time discarding the rest of his clothes, dropping them piece by piece over the side of the bed. The whole time, Mycroft’s gaze would roam over each new expanse of skin that was uncovered, as if memorizing and cataloguing Greg’s body down to its minutest molecules.

 

It was an intoxicating, nearly physical sensation. Greg had never imagined he could feel so completely taken apart with just a look.

 

The socks were the last things to hit the floor. Finally nude, Greg crawled up next to Mycroft again, heart pounding. Their eyes locked, and for one timeless second they just stared at each other, countless unspoken emotions and shared history swirling between them. Then, Greg reached out, running a finger over the fabric of Mycroft’s briefs.

 

“You drive me mad,” Mycroft whispered, his eyelids fluttering as Greg’s hand brushed just to the side of his erection.

 

“Same.” Greg continued teasing for a little longer, taking pity when Mycroft failed to stifle a quiet whimper.

 

“Think you could do it again?” he asked, grasping the waistband of Mycroft’s pants and pulling down. “Come just from watching me?”

 

Mycroft huffed out a breathy laugh, shifting his hips to assist Greg’s efforts. “I have no idea. But I am more than willing to try.”

 

“Then how ‘bout”-Greg tossed the undergarment away, fixing Mycroft with a look that caused a small but visible shiver to run the course of his body-“we make things a bit more interesting?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just kicked and screamed on its way out. I think I spent 3 days on a couple paragraphs just to realize I couldn't use them at all. (though I'm saving them for a different story, yay) But despite all that, still liking how things are shaping up. Just wish it'd form itself a bit easier.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Give and take, ebb and flow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost split this into two parts, but decided that I've taken so long with this that I wanted to give a slightly longer chapter. Also, firmly rated E now. Enjoy!

“What do you propose?” Mycroft asked, his breathing more audible now. Greg had never seen him so unguarded, the nervous anticipation easily readable on his face. The fact that Greg was probably one of the few people to see him anything other than stoic and composed made the reaction all the more precious.

 

Sliding an arm around Mycroft’s shoulders, Greg pulled him close for another kiss. It had been several minutes since the last, and that was already several minutes too long. “I’m thinking we both get comfortable,” he said, gently trapping Mycroft’s bottom lip with his teeth just to enjoy the resulting gasp, “and I’ll give you something to watch again.” He lured out a few moans from Mycroft before drawing back. “But this time, you get to decide how I go about it.”

 

Mycroft’s eyes briefly widened before his expression settled into something indiscernible. His gaze traveled downwards, and Greg sucked in a breath as a warm palm caressed the side of his leg.

 

“Interesting.” Mycroft followed the progress of his fingertips sliding along Greg’s skin with a keen fascination. “You’d give me creative control, as it were?”

 

“Yeah.” Greg bit back a splintered noise when Mycroft’s nails grazed against his inner thigh. “And remember, hands off of yourself. You just lie back and enjoy the show.”

 

Mycroft snapped his eyes back up, naked desire burning away his remaining uncertainty. He snaked his fingers into Greg’s hair and tugged him down to claim his own hard, demanding kiss. Greg groaned into it, his toes curling at the skill of that clever tongue.

 

Mycroft’s grip suddenly tightened. Greg gasped as his head was forcibly yanked back. “Touch yourself for me. I want to see exactly how I affect you.”

 

_Oh fuck. There it is._

 

Greg inhaled slowly to steady himself. “Top drawer to your right,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking.

 

The hand in Greg’s hair loosened, caressing his scalp once before withdrawing. Mycroft twisted his upper body towards Greg’s nightstand, locating the stored away lube with minimal effort and passing it over. “Straddle me.”

 

Greg quickly shifted forward and sank down onto Mycroft’s legs. He had an excellent view of Mycroft’s body that way, and the positioning left him fully on display as well. A delicious shiver licked along his spine at the novelty of being both the audience and the performer at the same time.

 

He flipped open the lube’s cap and squirted a liberal amount onto his palm, letting his eyes run over parts of Mycroft that he’d not yet had a chance to appreciate. The curve of the hips, thighs he wanted to suck bruises onto, and the promising indication of a perfectly squeezable arse. Unsurprisingly, Greg found his gaze lingering on the unobstructed view of Mycroft’s cock, flushed red and jutting over his pale stomach.

 

Mycroft noted Greg’s visual assessment, lifting an eyebrow in a way that shouldn’t have been as indecent as he managed to make it. “Start slowly, Greg. Do not use your hand for now, only your fingers. Concentrate on the head.”

 

Greg nodded, thrilling at the soft dominance behind the command. He hadn’t seen this side of Mycroft since the first time, and God, he’d been hoping for another appearance. With an anticipatory shudder, Greg curled his fingers around his upper shaft, sighing at the first slick upstroke. Smart of Mycroft to have him pace things out. Wound up as he already was, Greg didn’t think he’d last more than a few minutes using his preferred technique.

 

Keeping his grip loose, he trailed his thumb over the surface of his prick, circling the top and pressing against the spongy flesh. Every so often he drew his fingers up and down his length, gently pulling at his foreskin, kneading light circles into the small expanse of flesh just below his glans.

 

“Oh… That’s…”

 

“Good?”

 

A groan slipped from Greg. Each pass of his fingers made his thighs tense and his heart rate deepen. The surroundings seemed to shrink away, his narrowing focus muting out anything not to do with the man lying beneath him.

 

“Yeah,” Greg whispered, swiping across his slit with a soft grunt. He saw a spasm go through Mycroft’s cock, and a heady mix of pride and arousal swirled inside of him. “Really good.”

 

Mycroft smiled, the small curl of his lips full of sinful promise. “You truly are indescribable, you know. Beyond anything I could have anticipated. I think the only thing that could improve matters would be if it were my hands in place of your own.”

 

Greg gasped. The mental image of those elegant, long fingers wrapped around his cock caused his grip to involuntarily tighten before he could catch himself. “S-sorry,” he said, reverting back to light, teasing pressure.

 

“Not at all.” Mycroft paused, his eyes gone dark and hypnotizing. “In fact, perhaps we should move things along. Stroke yourself properly now, but don’t increase your speed.”

 

Greg breathed an airy laugh. Christ, but this was perfect. Not only was Mycroft totally immersed in their game, but he was deviously skilled at playing it. Grinning in fond disbelief, Greg grasped himself more firmly, moaning at the jump in sensation. His hips began to sway, complimenting the pumping motion of his fist.

 

“Yes, just like that,” Mycroft said. His voice was made of smoke and silk, and was losing its stability by the second. “Can you fathom how badly I want to touch you right now? The things I want to do to you?”

 

“Oh fuck… Mycroft, please…”

 

Mycroft’s cock gave another noticeable tremor, one of a growing number in the last few minutes. “God, the sounds you make. You beg so beautifully. I want to know everything of you, Greg. Your body, your mind. Every wicked, dark desire you’ve ever imagined; I intend to learn them all. And believe me when I say it would give me the greatest of pleasure to grant every single one of them for you.”

 

Greg didn’t even try to hold back his gruff, desperate whine, and he didn’t feel a modicum of shame for it, either. He freely trembled, his movements growing more and more restless despite the careful rhythm of his hand. Warmth and pleasure were coalescing deep within Greg, edging him towards that final crest.

 

“I think- Oh God- p-please, I need-“

 

“What? What do you need? Say it.”

 

Greg gritted his teeth, having to rally the dregs of his willpower to form the words.

 

“Please, let me come.”

 

Mycroft’s gaze burned into Greg. His nostrils flared.

 

Then he nodded.

 

“As you wish.”

 

The next stroke, harder with a slight twist on the way up, jolted Greg’s pelvis forward and arched his back. His thrusts quickly increased in speed while his moans grew in volume and frequency. Tingles scattered under his skin, traveling all the way to his forehead, making him dizzy.

 

Through it all, Greg’s eyes never left Mycroft. He could see something in Mycroft’s face changing, a kind of stunned awe stealing across his expression. He stared up at Greg as though he were the single most fantastic thing that had ever existed. Tension quivered throughout Mycroft’s limbs, and continuous twitches ran through his cock.

 

Greg stiffened as he felt the familiar tightening down below, his body strapping in for impact. In those last few seconds of clarity, he sat up on his knees and leaned forward.

 

“Now, Mycroft.”

 

Then he reached down with his free hand and gave Mycroft’s left nipple a firm flick.

 

Mycroft’s eyes flew wide, the flash of shock visible the instant before they slammed shut. He gasped, his stomach muscles abruptly clenching, and then he ramped into a shredded shout as he came, splashes of semen pooling across his belly. His prick jerked even after his release had stopped, his hips making tiny lurching motions while he writhed and panted.

 

The sheer raw intensity of that moment pushed Greg into his own orgasm so hard that his vision went white. He cried out once, twice, and again; his cock pulsing, wet heat coating his fingers. His very nerve endings thrummed with sensation, that clear note of pleasure seeming to last for an impossible length of time.

 

One last shuddering groan trickled from Greg’s lips. All the tension drained out of him like his muscles were turning to liquid, leaving him exhausted, weak, and deeply satisfied. He dreamily blinked the haze away to realize that Mycroft was silently watching.

 

Everything seemed to slow as Greg took in the sight of him; eyes slightly unfocused, his breathing still heavy, his body limp and pliant. He looked shattered, destroyed in the best possible way.

 

Mycroft lifted a trembling hand, fingers stretching out.

 

“Greg.”

 

A distinct need, one that had hung in his mind since the start of this experiment, seared forth in Greg’s chest. He shifted forward and plastered himself against Mycroft, kissing him fervently. They wrapped every part of their bodies they could around each other, not caring about the mess being smeared between them, both just desperate to have skin-to-skin contact.

 

“Mycroft…” Greg’s words were slow to emerge since Mycroft was adamant about not letting their mouths part long enough for him to say them. “You looked fucking amazing… unbelievable… God…”

 

Mycroft didn’t speak. He just moaned against Greg’s lips as they clung together.

 

They gradually calmed into a languid state of kisses, intimate touches, and gentle whispers. Greg was idly sucking on Mycroft’s throat when a hoarse voice murmured, “We ought to shower.”

 

“Mm, later.”

 

“I fear by then we shall be glued together.”

 

Greg gave the discoloured mark he’d created a final nip and pulled back, looking at Mycroft with a lazy grin. “Then I’ll have to take you in the shower with me.” He playfully ran a hand through Mycroft’s unkempt hair, ruffling it further. “Kinda like you all mussed up like this, though. Looks good.”

 

Mycroft scoffed, albeit without derision. He closed his eyes with a sigh and let his head loll back against the pillow, looking so relaxed that he appeared softer, younger. He practically glowed, all the stress and sharp edges temporarily smoothed away. Greg studied his face, captivated at how he could look so much the same and yet so different.

 

Mycroft opened his eyes once more, blinking as Greg’s finger traced the delicate line of his eyebrows, the ridge of his cheekbones, his lips.

 

“What?” he asked, amused.

 

“Just… glad you’re here.” Greg’s hand stilled and then shifted, drifting down to come to rest over Mycroft’s heart. “Thanks for this. It was incredible.”

 

The answering smile Greg received was that small, almost mystified expression that was becoming more and more common with Mycroft.

 

“May I stay the night? I would like to wake up next to you.”

 

“Yeah. I’d like that too.”

 

“Thank you. And in the morning?”

 

“Hmm…” Greg considered. He lowered himself so they were chest to chest and settled his cheek against Mycroft’s skin. “Cuddling, maybe a round two if I don’t shag you senseless in the shower first,”-Mycroft chuckled at that-“and a fry-up.”

 

“Sounds lovely.” There was a few seconds of silence, and then Mycroft asked, “And what happens after that?”

 

The words were simple, almost nonchalant. But Greg caught the underlying meaning behind them, woven in with the hesitance in Mycroft’s voice. He lifted his head, meeting Mycroft’s eyes, both of them searching the other’s face. The question hovered in the air, along with all the implications that came with it.

 

But Greg merely smiled, leaned in, and kissed Mycroft again. “Just have to figure that out together, won’t we?” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together. It was a grey, inconclusive sort of answer. And despite that, Greg was still completely content with it.

 

And as he felt Mycroft’s arms encircle him, felt warm lips take his for their own, Greg could only smile wider, knowing that he wasn’t alone in the sentiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thrilled to finally be posting this. There'll probably be a short little epilogue of sorts, but this is basically the finish. Never gotten quite this detailed with the naughty scenes, but I'm feeling pretty good about them (my poor search history. The things I needed to research! XD)
> 
> I'm amazed at the lovely response this fic got, considering it began as a throw away and evolved into one of my bigger undertakings. Thank you all again for the encouragement!


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping up loose ends.

[Text start: 00:23]

_So. You and Mycroft._

**Found us out, did you? Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. How long have you known?**

_Since that little altercation between you two in my flat last month. Of course, your fumbling infatuations with each other were obvious even before that._

**So why’d you wait until now, then?**

_I was busy solving the Herston debacle (you’re welcome, by the way). It seemed more pressing than the fact you’re shagging my brother._

**At least you’ve got your priorities.**

_Indeed._

_Is it serious?_

 

**It still feels a bit too early to say.**

**But I really hope that it’s getting there.**

_Well, I suppose if anyone were equipped to counter Mycroft’s emotional ineptitude, it would be you. That much seems evident considering his recent behavior._

**How do you mean?**

_He smiles now. Quite a nauseating amount, actually._

**Pretty sure Mycroft smiled before he met me.**

_Yes, if that’s what you call it when he looked like he smelt something disagreeable but was too stodgy to bring it up. This is something different. It’s genuine._

_I think he’s happy._

**He wasn’t before?**

_More that I thought he'd given up on the concept. But you seem to have unearthed a side to my brother I have not seen in some time._

_And for that, I thank you._

**Then, it’s all good?**

_Do try to read between the lines, Grant. Do you think I would be saying this to you if it wasn’t?_

**It’s Greg.**

**And thanks. Means a lot to Mycroft that you’re okay with this.**

_How would you know? I haven’t talked with him yet._

_Oh dear Lord, he’s with you right now, isn’t he?_

**Could be.**

_Please tell me you at least finished whatever deviance you two were engaged in before starting this conversation._

**We’re on a break, actually.**

_I despise you both._

**Give our regards to Dr. Watson, brother mine.**

_LOATHE AND ABHOR._

**Night Sherlock. ;)**

[Text end: 00:30]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! Sorry for the small chapter, but I kinda wanted to get that little bit tagged on. And I like to look again at a Sherlock who's at least begrudgingly glad for his brother finding some joy in his life.
> 
> Thanks!


End file.
